there is an angel on the couch
a special kind of sacred
I am afraid to touch for the risk of breaking
a soul as wise as it aching
I will tread slow and safely
with myself on my sleeve
I can only hope she comes to me

there is an angel on the couch
I can see her spirit vibrating through her skin
she is squirming
hoping no one will notice
but earlier
outside
one of her feathers took off with the wind
and I am the only one who seen it

there is an angel on the couch
and I am a man too shy to open my mouth
failing to display my wittiness and sincerity
the vessels I use to send my love out
but I am floating, vulnerable in the sea
with the over whelming fear that I might drown

there is an angel on the couch
with a stereo and collection of cds
of people I know about
I chose a song
and as it song started
I sat back down unnoticed

"I hear a voice..."

there is angel on the couch
with her eyes closed and moving around
with her hands in the air
disrupting the sloth like clouds
she is in perfect sync with the sound

I am staring down at my knees
just wandering
around in my head
trying to remember to breathe
I am high beyond all reasoning
and the angel gives me an unfamiliar feeling
just sitting there on the couch
still not sure she can see completely see me
I am just a simple mortal peasant
and she has earned beautiful white wings
then without hesitation
I leave
and still, to this day
the reason escapes me